


Real Love

by geekymoviemom



Series: Pastor!Peeta [2]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christian Character, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 20:55:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14221632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekymoviemom/pseuds/geekymoviemom
Summary: This was written for the Everlark Fic Exchange for Spring 2018, for prompt #21, Day 1 of Peeta as a Daddy.  It is set in my Practice Run universe, and can serve as an outtake or epilogue for that story.  :)





	Real Love

 

I lean my head back against the headboard of our bed, cradling my brand new daughter against my bare chest as Katniss dozes on the pillow next to me.  Our midwife, Rachel, told us that skin-to-skin contact was the best way to keep Willow warm in these initial hours following birth, so besides the soft blanket draped over her back, she’s clad in only a diaper and a knit hat as she snoozes on me, her tiny hand clinging tightly to the hair between my pectorals.

 

Cupping Willow’s bottom in one hand, I carefully reach my other hand to brush Katniss’s hair out of her eyes, smiling when she unconsciously leans into my touch.  Watching her give birth to our daughter earlier today, on Resurrection Sunday no less, was one of the most amazing experiences of my life.  Even Rachel, who’s been witness to almost one hundred births in her career as a homebirth midwife, told me how impressed she was by Katniss’s strength and determination, especially for a first-time mom.  During the entire five-hour labor, there was only one time when I saw fear in Katniss’s grey eyes.  Only one time where she said she just couldn’t take it anymore.  Where the pain was just too much for her to handle.  I've never felt so helpless in my entire life. It nearly tore my heart right out of my chest to see my wife in such agony and be unable to do anything to help her.  But it was only about thirty seconds later when Rachel told her it was time to start pushing.  And thankfully, by the grace of God, it only took five pushes before Willow was born.

 

Our perfect baby girl, with Katniss’s hair and my eyes.  Willow Grace Mellark.

 

It’s nearly midnight now.  Willow is about six hours old.  Through the window on the opposite wall, I can see the lake reflecting the light from the stars and the waning moon.  The water is calm and peaceful, the perfect mirror image of my home on this Easter night.

 

I know I should try and get some sleep.  “Sleep when the baby sleeps,” is the advice Katniss and I received from just about everyone we came across in the last few months, both at church and around our small town of Starbuck, Minnesota.  But strangely enough, after the events of the day I don’t feel tired at all.  I only want to sit here, holding my precious baby and sniffing her tiny head.  I want to listen to every single squeak that she makes.  I want to feel the rise and fall of her little chest against my own.  I want to soak in all in, for as long as I’m able to before she wakes up hungry and I have to give her back to her mommy.

 

This is my daughter.

 

I’m a daddy.

 

_Thank you, Jesus._

 

* * *

 

The very small but very strong yank on my chest hair is what startles me awake.  I blink a few times, squinting to look at the clock.  It’s nearly 2am already, and Willow is starting to stir, sucking on her tiny fist.  I guess I was able to doze off after all.

 

Rubbing at the crick in my neck, I look down at my sleeping wife, reluctant to wake her but knowing it’s best to catch Willow before she gets too frantically hungry, and therefore more difficult to get latched on properly.  Rachel taught us the newborn hunger cues at one of our last prenatal visits, and so far we’ve been able to avoid making Willow too upset to feed well.  I’d like to continue that streak.

 

“Katniss,” I whisper, gently shaking her shoulder.  “Wake up, my love.”

 

Katniss’s eyes flutter open, and she brings her arms up over her head to stretch.  “Mmm.  Is she hungry?”

 

“She’s trying to eat her hand, so I’d say yeah,” I reply.  Holding Willow’s head under my chin, I reach my free hand under Katniss’s arm, helping her sit up and tucking an extra pillow behind her head.  Rachel recommended that Katniss stay in the bed as much as possible for the next two days and allow me to spoil her, and I fully intend to follow through with those instructions.

 

Handing Katniss the baby, I watch in awe as she lifts up her pajama shirt and latches her onto her breast.  I chuckle as Willow’s tiny hands splay out to hold onto the breast as she suckles.  “I think she knows what she likes,” I say to Katniss.

 

“Of course she does,” Katniss says, running her fingertip along Willow’s tiny cheek.  “She’s my daughter.”

 

I lean in to kiss Katniss’s forehead.  “And what would you like to eat, Momma?”

 

Her beautiful grey eyes lock with mine as she gives me a tired smile.  “A cheese bun.  No, two of them.  And some water, please.”

 

I peck her forehead again.  “You got it.”

 

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I slip on my t-shirt as I get to my feet, limping slightly as I walk out of the bedroom and into the kitchen of our small home.  I’m not used to wearing my prosthesis this late at night, or while I’m sleeping, and my left leg is a bit sore.

 

While I wait for the cheese buns to heat up, I look through the open kitchen to the living room, my eyes falling on the now-empty birthing pool where our daughter was born just a few hours ago.  I run my hand through my hair as I recall the exact moment that Willow was born, and how I fell in love with her as soon as I saw her.  With the kind of household that I grew up in, and the constant questioning of whether or not my own mother even loved me, it was a huge weight off my shoulders.  As much as I hate to admit it, I am my mother’s son.  And it would absolutely devastate me to ever have Willow be unsure of our love for her.

 

The microwave beeps, startling me out of my reverie.  I pull out the plate of warm cheese buns, then grab a water bottle from the fridge, turning off the kitchen light with my elbow as I make my way back to the bedroom just in time to see Katniss switching Willow to the other breast.

 

“Here you go, love,” I say as I set the plate down on the bedside table.  I twist the cap off the water bottle and hand it to Katniss, watching with wide eyes as she downs over half of it in several large gulps before handing it back to me and reaching for a cheese bun.

 

“Rachel said that nursing makes you extra thirsty,” Katniss says, taking a big bite of the cheese bun.  “If it's this bad already, it's going to be ridiculous once my milk actually comes in.”

 

“I'll go to the store and get more if we need it,” I tell her, smoothing back her hair.  “I'll get you whatever you want, you just say the word.”

 

“Joseph and Katherine said they’d be bringing us some groceries on Tuesday,” she replies.  “And Rachel said she'd bring food when she comes to check on us tomorrow morning.  We’ll be okay.”

 

Joseph Everdeen is my boss, and the Head Pastor at Central Minnesota Community Church, where I lead the Alive Teen Ministry.  He’s also Katniss’s distant cousin, which we discovered when we came here to Lake Minnewaska on our honeymoon almost three years ago.  In that time, I’ve become closer to them and their family than I ever was to my own.  In fact, just earlier this evening, after I texted Joseph to announce Willow’s birth, he replied with a link to a website where members of our church family had signed up to bring us daily meals for the next three weeks.  I only hope we have enough freezer space for all of the leftovers.  People definitely enjoy showing their love up here in Minnesota through food and hospitality.

 

“She’s done eating, Peeta,” Katniss whispers a few minutes later.  “And I need to pee.”

 

“Let me help you!” I exclaim, probably a little too loudly when Katniss winces.  “Rachel said you shouldn’t be doing much of anything on your own for at least a couple of days, Katniss.”  I gently take Willow from her, propping her up against my shoulder with one arm.  “Let me help you.”

 

Katniss scowls, but sits tight while I make my way to the other side of the bed, offering her my free arm to help her stand.  She sways a little once she gets to her feet, shooting me a contrite look as we step towards the small bathroom a few feet away.  Willow turns her head as I stand near the door, burying her tiny nose into my neck, her little hands kneading the fabric of my t-shirt.  As Katniss finishes up and we head back towards the bed, I hear a tiny belch in my ear and chuckle.

 

“That’s my girl.  Already burping like a true Mellark.”

 

“She needs her diaper changed,” Katniss says, crawling back into the bed.  She stuffs the remaining half of a cheese bun into her mouth and hands me the diaper, which is smaller than my hand.  “Do you want to try it?”

 

“Absolutely,” I whisper.

 

Carefully cupping Willow’s head, I lay her down on the bed in front of me.  With her constantly kicking and wiggling legs, it takes me a good five minutes to get her wet diaper off and the fresh one fastened, but when it doesn’t fall off of her after I pick her back up, I consider it a success.

 

With her tummy full and a dry bottom, Willow is now wide awake, her blue eyes bright in the dim light of the bedroom.  “Go back to sleep,” I tell Katniss.  “I'll stay up with her.”

 

“You need sleep too, Peeta,” Katniss protests, even as she lays back down.  “I’m feeling okay—“

 

“I had a short nap,” I say.  “I’m fine.  You need to sleep.”

 

“Mmm,” Katniss grumbles.  “Your leg’s gonna be sore in the morning.”

 

I bring the blankets up over Katniss’s shoulder and tuck a stay hair behind her ear.  “Don’t worry about me.  You just get as much rest as you can.  You worked hard today.”

 

Yawning, Katniss nods.  “All right.  Just make sure she stays warm.”

 

“I will.  I'll put her in that outfit that Annie sent us and wrap her up in her blanket.”  I lean down to give Katniss a kiss.  “Sleep now, love.”

 

“Don’t walk around too much,” Katniss mumbles as I reach the doorway.  “Your leg… “

 

If getting Willow diapered was difficult with all of her wiggling, getting her wrangled into clothing is even more interesting.  Once I finally get the last snap fastened I lean back onto the couch, propping my knees up and laying her against my legs.  I watch in awe as her blue eyes flit around the living room before landing on my face.  

 

“That’s right, tiny girl,” I whisper.  “I’m your daddy.  And I love you, and I’m gonna tell you that every single day of your life, so you never have to wonder.  Okay?”

 

Willow gives a hard kick, which I take as a favorable response.  

 

“You are a gift from God,” I continue.  “The most perfect kind of gift.  And the cool thing is, He loves you too.  Even more than I do, which I have to admit is pretty hard to believe.”  Willow’s small hand wraps around my index finger, holding it tight as she digs her little heels into my stomach, and I squeeze my eyes closed at the onslaught of tears threatening to leak from my eyes.

 

I always knew that I wanted a family with Katniss, in that vague, nonspecific way that I’m sure a lot of guys do when they meet the love of their lives.  I started dreaming about what our future children would look like almost as soon as we got back together four years ago, at the TobyMac concert.  That’s one reason why it was such a shock that the first emotion I felt when Katniss told me she was pregnant, was fear.

 

Of course, the fact that I’d just been offered an interview for my dream job an hour earlier might’ve had something to do with it.  And the fact that this job was halfway across the country, which meant we would have to leave our home, our jobs, and our church and move to a place I’d never, ever once dreamed of living.  But deep down I knew that wasn’t the main reason why I was afraid.

 

I was scared I’d be a lousy father.

 

Katniss and I talked a bit about this stuff during our premarital counseling back at Mountainside Church, both with Pastor Dale and with Finnick and Annie.  But I was always too afraid to admit in front of them just how deeply my fears went.  Especially since Katniss herself was frightened as well.  It hadn’t been all that long since she’d told me she wasn’t sure if she ever wanted children, after what happened to her family.  She’d lost so many people that she’d loved, she wasn’t sure if she could handle opening her heart to having a family, out of fear of losing them.

 

And then, with the whirlwind of interviewing for my job, moving, and purchasing our home, for a long time I simply didn’t have a good opportunity to face these fears that were roiling around, deep in my gut.

 

It wasn’t until Joseph caught me yelling at my computer screen at work one afternoon that I was able to talk through some of them.  I was trying to write my sermon message for the week after Easter, and the words were simply refusing to flow.  Katniss’s due date was rapidly approaching, we had passed all the childbirth classes, the car seat was installed in the car, and all the supplies were purchased and being prepped.  And yet, I found myself almost dreading the impending birth.

 

Poking his head into my office, Joseph asked if he could help me with something, and to my surprise I broke down, right there in front of him, and confessed that I was terrified of my own unborn child.

 

Being the wonderful Pastor and mentor that he is, Joseph simply listened to me, without interruption, until I talked myself out.  I told him about my family life growing up, how I never felt loved by my mother, how she told me she’d always wanted a daughter and instead got stuck with me.  How she basically disowned me after I told my parents I was going to attend Bible College.  How I knew that I wasn’t my mother, but still afraid that I would somehow turn out like her.

 

And, not surprisingly, once I was done, instead of offering me advice, Joseph told me to close my computer, shut my office door, get down on my knees, and talk to God.

 

So I did.

 

And three hours later, with sore knees and a stiff back, I stood back up.  My conversation with God had ranged from ranting to talking to asking to begging during the course of those three hours, but as I drove home afterwards, I realized that a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders.  And the next day, when Joseph asked me how I was doing, I was able to tell him without hesitation, that I was much, much better.

 

Because I couldn’t change the fact that my mother had desperately wanted a daughter and had another son instead.  I couldn’t change the fact that she took her frustrations out on me, and my father did little to stop her.  I couldn’t change the fact that while I forgave her for all of that, it didn’t mean that I wanted a close relationship with her now that I was an adult.

 

But I could choose to be different.  I could choose to be better.  I could choose to be the kind of father to my children that I wished I had.

 

And with the Lord’s help, that’s what I’m going to be.

 

“I love you, baby girl,” I whisper to my daughter.  She taps the finger she’s holding against her cheek.  “Yes, that’s right.  You’re my baby girl, and I love you.  And your Mommy loves you, and everyone at church is gonna love you.”  I lean forward, pressing a kiss to her tiny forehead.   “And I promise, that you will never have to wonder about it.  Not ever.”

 

Willow yawns, arching her back, smacking her lips together once she’s done.  Her eyelids are starting to droop and her frenetic movements are slowing down.  It must be time to sleep again.

 

“Let’s go back in by Momma now, okay?” I whisper, chuckling when Willow yawns again in response.  I limp back into the bedroom and climb back onto the bed, careful to avoid jostling Katniss awake.  She stirs anyway as I settle in, reaching for me in her sleep, burrowing closer to my side as I unsnap the front of Willow’s outfit and pull my t-shirt up so she’s lying against my bare chest, regulating her body temperature.  I adjust the blanket across her back and lean against my pillows, closing my eyes as one final thought flits across my consciousness.

 

This, right here, is real love.

 

* * *

 

“You want to do _what_?” I ask Katniss as she takes a freshly diapered Willow from me, positioning the baby to nurse.  I can hear Rachel moving around in the kitchen and living room, setting out our breakfast and packing up the birthing supplies that she didn’t get to yesterday, so I know I’m not still asleep.  But there’s no way I could have heard Katniss correctly just now.

 

“I want to join the worship team,” she repeats.  She looks up at me through narrowed eyes.  “What.  I thought you’d be happy.”

 

A huge smile splits my face.  I guess I really did hear her correctly.  “Are you kidding me?  I’m ecstatic!  I just never thought that you’d… I mean… what made you decide on this?”

 

Katniss looks down at the newborn cradled against her breast and presses her lips together.  “Yesterday, while I was in labor.  During the transition part, where I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, I made a deal with God.  I told Him that if He got me through the rest of the labor, that I would join the worship team when Willow got a bit older.  As a thank you.”  She brings Willow’s tiny hand to her lips, her grey eyes shimmering with tears.  “The Lord held up His end of the bargain, so now it's my turn.”

 

My chin starts to quiver, and I shake my head in disbelief.  I've dreamt of a day where the rest of our church could see how beautiful Katniss is when she sings, where they could be as mesmerised by her enchanting voice as I am.  But she was always adamant that she didn’t like singing in front of strangers.  She always said she only sang for people she loved.  I never in a thousand lifetimes thought she would willingly change her mind.

 

“Katniss, you know that’s not how—“

 

“Yes, I know that’s not how God works,” she interrupts.  “But it's how _I_ work.  And you know I don’t like owing anyone.”  She looks back down at the baby.  “I want her to see that her Momma’s not afraid to face her fears.”

 

I reach over and cup her cheek, turning her head to look at me.  “You’re sure about this?”

 

She nods, kissing my palm.  “Yes.  I’m going to talk to Cinna about it the next time I see him.  I know they practice one evening a week, so you’d have to make sure you could watch Willow while I’m practicing.  And I’m not going to start until she’s at least a few months old.  But I am gonna do this, Peeta.  I made a promise.”

 

I choke back a sob as a tear rolls down my cheek.  “You have such an amazing gift, Katniss.  People aren’t going to know what hit them when they hear you sing.”

 

“You’ll be there to watch me the first few times, right?” she asks in a small voice.  

 

“I'll be there every time,” I say, bringing my other hand to pat Willow’s head.  “We both will.”

 

Katniss smiles, leaning in for a kiss.  “Thank you.”

 

Our attempt at a second kiss is interrupted by a loud knock on the door.  “Are you ready for a shower before you eat, Katniss?” Rachel calls.

 

“Come on in, Rachel,” Katniss replies, winking at me as she hands me the baby.  “I’m ready.”

 

The door swings open as the compact, grey-haired midwife enters the room.  “Good morning, Peeta,” Rachel says as Willow and I slide off the bed.  “How was your first night as a daddy?”

 

I hike Willow up onto my shoulder, patting her gently on the back and grinning when she rewards me with a loud burp.  “It was glorious.”

 

Rachel gives us a huge grin.  “Aww, aren’t you two the picture of happiness this morning!  I love it when the daddies are able to bond with their little ones right away.  Now, go out there and eat your breakfast while it's hot.”

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

There’s a brand-new little bouncy seat set up next to the couch, a baby gift sent to us from Delly and Thom.  After I get Willow strapped into the seat I head to the kitchen, filling a plate with the delicious food that Rachel brought before returning to the living room to sit on the floor next to my daughter.

 

“Your Mommy has made me so happy today,” I say to Willow around a mouthful of fried potatoes.  “And it's all your doing, baby girl.” I grab onto her foot, pressing her bootied toes to my lips.  “You're not even a day old yet, and you’re already changing our lives for the better.”

 

* * *

 

**_Six months later._ **

 

“Oohh, I don’t know if I can do this,” Katniss says, slumping into a chair behind the main auditorium stage.  It’s five minutes prior to the start of the first morning service of the weekend.  “I don’t think I’m ready yet, Peeta.  There’s too many people out there!”

 

Hiking Willow up onto my hip, I crouch down to look at her.  “Yes, you are, Katniss.  You are ready.  You’ve been practicing for four months now, and you've been leading worship at the Alive services for a month already.  This is no different from that.”

 

“But there’s twice as many people here, Peeta!” she cries.  “And the teens don’t listen as closely anyway.”

 

“Yes, they do,” I say firmly.  I cup her cheek in my free hand, urging her to look at me.  “You don't know the effect you have on people, Katniss. Your voice is captivating.  I hear all the kids talking about how good you are, and these adults will be no different.”

 

“But—“

 

“Cinna thinks you’re ready,” I interrupt.  “And I know you’re ready.  You’re going to be wonderful, Katniss.  And Willow and I will be in the front row, cheering you on.”

 

Biting her bottom lip, Katniss finally nods, her grey eyes falling on our daughter.  “You brought her headphones, right?  This auditorium is louder than the smaller one.”

 

“Yes.  They’re in my coat pocket.”  I press my lips to Katniss’s forehead.  “Willow’s going to be fine, love.  She’s with me.”

 

A huge smile breaks over Katniss’s beautiful face.  “Of course she'll be fine if she’s with you.” She holds her arms out.  “Let me give her a hug though.”

 

Handing Willow to her mother, I get to my feet, pulling both of my girls into a big hug.  “You’ve got this, Katniss. If it helps, just pretend you’re singing to only Willow and me.  Okay?”

 

Katniss nuzzles Willow’s chubby cheek, laughing as the baby lets out a giggle.  “I love you, sweet girl.  And I love you, too,” she adds as she reaches her hand around my neck, pulling me down for a kiss.  “Thank you.”

 

“Everything okay, Katniss?” Cinna asks, poking his head in through the curtain.  “It’s time to take the stage.”

 

“Yes,” Katniss says, smiling up at me.  “Everything’s fine.”

 

With a final kiss, Willow and I head down the stairs and into the auditorium, taking our seat in the front row.  I slip the bright pink, noise-reducing headphones over Willow’s little ears just as the band takes the stage.  Willow spots Katniss right away, letting out an adorable squeal as she claps excitedly.

 

“That’s right, Willow,” I say.  “That’s your Mommy up here on that stage.  And she’s gonna sing for us.”

 

Willow stills as the lights dim around us, looking around with her wide blue eyes as keyboard chords fill the auditorium.  On the stage Katniss steps forward, microphone in hand, and looks straight down at the two of us as she begins to sing.

 

 _Staring into Your eyes_  
_Makes my heart come alive_  
_Suddenly brought to life_  
_When I met You_

 _Reaching beyond the skies_  
_Running deep, stretching wide_  
_Perfect love realized_  
_Here with You_

  
Cinna’s lower, gravelly voice takes over for the second part of the verse, but Katniss’s eyes don't waver from Willow and me for a second.

  
Yeah this love is for real  
_You will never let go_  
_Never let go, oh_  
_And it's more than just words_  
_Love beyond my control  
_ _Out of control_

_Heads up!_

 

I can see our church family singing along, enthralled by Katniss’s enchanting voice.  Willow bounces happily in my arms as Katniss and Cinna’s voices combine beautifully for the chorus.

 

 _This is real love_ _  
_ _This is real love_

 

_Oh, this is real love_

_This is real love_

 

As the song draws to an end, I wink at Katniss, smiling so wide that my cheeks hurt.  All around us people are bursting into applause for my beautiful wife and her beautiful voice.  I squeeze my baby girl closer to me, sighing in happiness as Willow lays her little head against my chest and grabs a handful of my shirt, absolutely secure in her daddy’s love even at only six months old.

 

This truly is real love.

 

_Thank you, Jesus._

 

**Song Reference:**

**Real Love by Hillsong Young and Free**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to DandelionSunset, who provided the gorgeous edit for my banner, and to Xerxia and JavisTG for organizing the Fic Exchange. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this! Please don't hesitate to leave me a comment!


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